The reappearance of Violence in the R.E.M state. The gradual thinning of the angst in them to an amalgamation of long repressed demons, and then last night – to the familiar reflection of things happening in the waking state.
But they, altogether, make for a certain logical resonance deeper than what is accomplished when awake.
The absolute sense of the contradiction in immediate loss – What was once there is Not, anymore. The need to talk – a hollow prayer for a transference to an attitude of comfortable and durable volubility. The need to touch. To pay attention to. To give of oneself - Anything to delay the reflection, dreaded but inevitable.
A jolt of reality infused in all this meandering, brought on by personal circumstance – Cruelty. It is the only call we bring ourselves to confront when we mourn deeply and conscientiously, forgetting the presence of anyone else in the scheme of personal grief. The sense of I/Me alone in the suffering is difficult to overcome.
The future is a large Grizzly – something never actually encountered except in metaphor, but still large as life. An obstruction perhaps, but also a path towards, and a hazy glimpse at one beyond. It will become clearer with time, I suppose, but what is one to do but continue to be obscure. A mess of varied expectation, mostly fanciful.
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